“She would benefit most from my healing skills, Mairi, and I know you want what’s best for her.” There was a pause. “Well, we should get going. We must get to the ships in time.”
She woke again, people sitting her up, Kahina putting a steaming cup in her hands. The smell reminded her of the herb gardens in the mountains.
Mairi was fussing. “Carefully,” she said as Donnan and a silent one helped her onto a raft. They sat her in the middle.
“But I won’t be able to paddle from here,” said Kaetha.
“You can have a turn later,” said Donnan, pulling her hood further down her face. “Just try to stay dry.” She hadn’t realised it was raining.
For a while, she lay down in the middle of the raft and slept, lulled by the rocking motion and grateful for the spots of rain hitting her face, they were so pleasantly cool. She woke for snatches of time, catching glimpses of the grey robed people around her – hints of the flat fields beyond the river – horses – a barn . . . . Then she was sitting beside her father at the riverside in Braddon though she couldn’t tell if it was happening now or long ago. He pointed to the water.
“Did you see it?” he said.
It wasn’t a Fuathan, she knew that much. “I saw a splash.”
“Keep watching. You asked why the river’s called Leap, well . . .”
Then she saw it – a salmon flinging itself up into the air as it flailed against the current. She laughed. There was another splash downriver. Then more and more. It was wonderful.
“They always find their way home,” her father said.
His words echoed in her mind but the image disappeared when the raft jolted. She opened her eyes. Was it getting dark, or was the rocky cliff beside the river to their left casting a shadow over them? She looked back as the rafts steered a bend in the river. A lighter section of grey rock high up put her to mind of fish scales. When it twitched, she realised it wasn’t rock, but a cloak. A pale face. Dark hair. A mocking smile. She blinked and pushed herself up to get a clearer view. But now there was nothing, only rock beneath a sky bruised with clouds.
TWENTY NINE
The Ships of Longmachlag Bay
A weary numbness broke over Kaetha and she forgot the people around her or where they were going. Someone held a cup to her lips but the drink was bitter and she only managed a sip before spitting out the rest. Too tired to sit up, she lay back and all she knew was the dusky sky above her, the sunset stealing away all the light.
She heard the crunch of shingle before realising that she was walking. Someone’s arm was around her.
“Infuse these and make her drink the lot,” said Kahina. “It will give her strength.”
Is that what I need? Strength? Kaetha thought. Stones dug into her knees and her hands found the scratchy leaves of a cluster of plants which broke through the shingle. The others were all talking about her. They didn’t seem to be looking. So she focussed on her Fire magic, drawing the strength from these plants into herself. They browned and shrivelled before her as she felt energy flowing warm through her blood. She reached out to a patch of fresh leaves, wanting more of their life for herself, but something nipped her finger and she drew her hands away. A brown mouse scurried away. Tam. She got to her feet.
“How are you feeling, Kaetha?” asked Naru.
She wondered if Tam had been reprimanding her for drawing life from a living thing or warning her that Naru might notice. Brownish powder, finer than sand, fell from her hands in the breeze. “Better. I think.”
She only now noticed the three huge ships, mighty timber fortresses, anchored in the bay.
“We’re here at last,” said Asrid, hugging Margaret. “Another chance at life. And it’s because of you, Kaetha.” She hugged her too.
“Let the poor lass breathe, Asrid,” said Margaret.
A rowing boat came from one of the ships, its rower’s task being to ferry passengers.
Kaetha received hugs and handshakes and exchanged bows with so many silent ones that her neck grew stiff.
“Thank you for all your help, Kahina,” she said. Kahina began to bow her head but Kaetha embraced her. She turned to Naru. “About what happened back at Neul Carraig – the fire - I—”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Branna was disappointed in me, wasn’t she?”
“Your gift is strong and you do need to learn to control it better. But don’t be hard on yourself, that won’t help. I only wish I had the time to teach you more. Perhaps someday, if we meet again.”
“I hope so.”
They were the last few to leave and Kaetha, Donnan and Mairi stood together, watching the rowing boat take them away. “Fair wind to your sails,” called Kaetha, waving.
“I’m almost envious,” said Donnan. “I quite like the idea of sailing off to lands I’ve never seen.”
“Didn’t you once say that you could never have imagined leaving Mormuin?” asked Kaetha.
“That can’t have been me,” he said, grinning.
“I dreamt that you went off to a new life with them, Kaetha,” said Mairi. “Somewhere where the mark on your face meant nothing. Where you would be free from suspicion . . . safe. Only they wouldn’t let me go with you.”
“But you’d still have had Donnan,” said Kaetha. “In the dream.”
“You think I’d have let you go without me?” said Donnan. “I’d have cut my cheek and persuaded them I was a witch too. I’d have cut open a toad to tell their fortunes, eaten its brain and told them what the toad had been thinking before it died, boiled up a potion with a lock of a bride’s hair, the tooth of a black cat, and the fingernails of a dying man. Would that convince those eejits, Kit?” He turned to face her and his smile faded. “You’re looking pale again. Do you still feel unwell?”
“I’m just tired. I’ll be fine. We still have an hour or so before dark, we could probably make it to the first village beyond Longmachlag.” Even as she said it, she wondered if she had the strength. Along the shore, a grey-haired couple stood gazing at the ships, their shoulders stooped as if they bore the weight of many troubles.
“No,” said Mairi. “We’ll find somewhere here to stop for the night. You need rest.”
“I didn’t mean to overhear,” said the man, “but if you need a place to stay for the night, you can share our cottage.” He nodded towards a small, stone building at the edge of the beach.
“Thank you,” said Mairi. “You’re very kind.”
They followed the couple to their small dwelling.
“I’m Aleas Murchad,” said the woman, moving a fallen lobster pot out of the way of the door, “and this is my husband, Arran.”
Sitting down around the hearth, they introduced themselves and Mairi asked to brew the herbs for Kaetha.
“Our son, Bruce, would have made you a good remedy,” said Aleas.
“He’s on one of the ships?” asked Donnan.
She nodded, studying her hands on her lap.
Arran took one of her hands in his. “It was a difficult decision. But for the best. Lost count of the times he came home with a black eye. Once it was a broken rib. They said he summoned bad weather and sent away the fish.”
“Ignorant bastards,” said Aleas through gritted teeth.
“A new start for him then,” said Mairi.
Meraud’s face haunted Kaetha’s dreams. In one, it was she who came to her through the water and clawed her arm with a sharp, poisoned nail. She woke with a tugging sensation in the pit of her stomach and a shiver that crept over her skin, making her wonder if she was going to be sick.
The others were asleep around the hearth. She got up, stole out of the cottage and walked down towards Longmachlag Bay which was grey in the early dawn. Soon the ships were due to set sail. The wind outside had stilled and there was an unnerving emptiness in the air, heavy with silence. Even the water moved soundlessly against the shingle. Dread pressed down on her like a cloak of iron as she stood on the shore, watching the ships.
There was a rush of swelling water and the sea shifted from its natural ebb and flow, setting a new course, circling the bay, trailing the froth of breaking waves. Soon the sea surrounding the ships became agitated, like cream churning into butter, and the ships bobbed like flimsy toy boats. The blood drained from Kaetha’s face as the waves grew. Surges of water crashed upon the shore now and she staggered backwards. The ships rocked and distant voices sliced through the air, shouting commands, shrieking in panic.
This isn’t happening.
Oars waved furiously as one ship pushed itself into open sea only to meet a rolling wall of water. Her heart leapt to her throat as the ship dipped and rose. The wave roared like thunder, smashing into its side and hurling the hull into the rocks. She gasped, her hand pressing her mouth as she stood there, helpless. Solid oak shattered like pottery.
“No!” She could barely hear her own voice. “No!” She sank to her knees. The ship sank fast, dragging passengers and crew with it.
She held her breath as a second ship attempted to leave the bay, the one she believed carried her friends and companions. It rocked, creaked, took on water, oars at port and starboard moving in furious unison like wings. She finally breathed again when it rode the waves, steering cleanly through the mouth of the bay. She willed for Kahina and Naru to be alright, and Asrid and Margaret, and all the others.
The third ship was dragged into the middle of the bay spinning like a weathervane in a gale, lurching precariously. She felt a sensation like fingers tracing the skin of her neck and, amidst the chaos, her attention was drawn to many points in the bay and even into the sea beyond. Her mind stretched to the watery edges of their thoughts. Many Fuathans had gathered. If they didn’t have the power to help, who did?
Despite her riot of emotions, she forced herself to quieten her mind so that she could find her Air magic. Then, she reached for names. “Abhain, Sruth, Muir,” she said, staring at the sea near the shore. “Seol-Mara, Ronliath, Tarshruth,” she said, following the circling of the whirlpool. “Tonn-Laidir, Feamainn, Uisglas,” she said looking further out. She stretched her mind as far as she could, “Bruthack, Talam . . . Creaglas.”
She screwed her eyes shut as she tried to distinguish between the overlapping thoughts which passed like waves through her mind – a choir with each voice singing out of time, even if the song was the same one. Death comes like a shark in the shadows— What can we do?— In the name of Mother Moon and Daughter Tide— Can you hear them cry out?
She filled her mind as clearly and loudly as she could with her messages to them: Save the people of the shipwrecks. Rescue the drowning. Calm the sea. She repeated these thoughts over and over and over.
Who is that, some Annisith?— No, a mortal but she hears our thoughts like one— and sends us hers too— The Daughter of the Stars would not wish us to speak with her. The background murmur of thoughts thinned out as some broke her connection with them.
Please, she pleaded, trying to keep hold of those who still listened. This is murder. My friends are out there. Innocent people are suffering. You have the power to help them – you can’t just leave them to die!
More minds stole away but one drew close to hers. Seol-Mara?
You know my name, so hear my thoughts. We can do nothing. This power is greater than ours. But do not grieve. Remember these were mortals and so would have died anyway in time. With this, her connection to Seol-Mara was severed and she was left standing alone, watching in horror as the ship in the bay capsized, sinking fast into the deep water, now and then a face or an arm appearing then disappearing beneath the surface. Then the ship which had gone out into open sea surged back on a mammoth wave, crashing into the rocks. The faces of her friends passed through her mind as tears spilled down her cheeks.
Knowing that it was madness, she walked into the sea. With water up to her thighs, she reached a rowing boat which had been pulled out by the waves, clambered into it and pulled back the oars, arms tight as rope as she strained against the wilful current.
“Kaetha – no!”
Spray stung her eyes but she saw Donnan running down the beach.
“I have to do something!” she cried.
Waves kept thrusting her back towards the shore and she kept pushing to get further out, scanning the water for any sign of people struggling. The rowing boat tipped on the crest of a wave, plunging down again, pulling at the oars.
“Kit!” Donnan’s voice was muffled by the surging waves.
Water crashed over the side, tipping the boat.
“KIT!”
A shadow loomed. A huge wave swelling. Heart galloping, panic coursing through her veins, stomach reeling, she fought the urge to scream. The boat rose almost vertical, then flipped. She breathed deeply before she smacked into water and was dragged down.
Now the rushing, frothing and smashing of water were just whispers above her. Here the sea was quiet but no less strong. The current tugged her down. She saw figures in the water, garments floating around their still bodies and, at first, with a thrill of shock, she thought they were corpses. But their heads turned and they stared at her with large, black eyes. Fuathans.
Help me! she thought. But they just watched her. One with greyish mottled skin, like a seal, looked at her with pity in his face. Help me, Tarshruth, she thought, directing her message to him alone. He just shook his head sadly, his long seaweed-hair waving in the water.
She flailed, looking up to the light-speckled surface, her limbs growing heavier. She’d been under too long. She thought of her mother and her father as the Fuathans’ mournful, haunting song pierced through the water, a lament without words. She hadn’t been able to save either of her parents. She thought of Donnan and Mairi standing on the beach. At least they had each other. Tell me, Tarshruth, before I die, who did this? His thoughts began to form in her mind before they were cut down into inaudible, scattered fragments.
An involuntary breath and water cut into her lungs like knives. Pain. Her vision blurred but she saw Tarshruth raise his arms towards her and cold seeped through her chest. Like water but not water. Like ice but not ice. And then she felt nothing. She was numb. No more pain. Tarshruth nodded.
Something tugged at her neck and she thought that one of the Fuathans had taken pity on her and was trying to break her neck to let her die more swiftly. Thank you, she thought to the figure above her. But her neck didn’t break. Another arm grabbed her shoulder and she watched the figures of the Fuathans recede, gasping a ragged breath as her head broke the surface of the water. The patch of water surrounding her was oddly calm now, though the turbulent waves persisted mere yards away. The shore drew closer and soon she was clawing at shingle, coughing as she crawled.
Donnan lay beside her, panting, a rope around his middle. Arran and Aleas collapsed to their knees, crying in one another’s arms and Mairi stumbled towards them. Kaetha gripped Donnan’s arm. “This was dark magic,” she whispered. “Whoever did this wanted them dead. I swear, if I find out who it was, my face will be the last one they see.”
THIRTY
The Wreckage
The sea had drawn back now, lapping against the shingle with no memory of its former fury, no grief for the dead which it had swallowed and no concern for the living scattered along the beach, failing to comprehend what had just happened.
Did the silent ones keep their vow? Kaetha wondered. Or did they scream, curse and pray? She knelt, inspecting a patch of stones darkened by water. Her fingers numbed as they slipped over them. Ice, she thought, the magic left a trail of ice.
The gentle waves had brought five lifeless bodies to the shore. Just five. Hundreds must have drowned. Kaetha didn�
��t recognise the faces of any of them but saw that each bore a long cut on the cheek or forehead. She felt numb as she, Donnan and Mairi hauled the bodies further up the beach in a line and draped a torn sail cloth over them which had also washed up along with part of a mast. Oddly, covering the bodies up made them seem more dead.
Strains of the Fuathans’ mournful song echoed through Kaetha’s mind and, after standing for some time alongside the Murchads, looking out to sea, she felt tears running down her cheeks. Mairi removed Kaetha’s wet cloak, replacing it with her own, before she and Donnan walked Aleas and Arran back to their cottage. Kaetha heard their footsteps fade as she sat gazing at the sea but she knew she wasn’t alone.
“Did you see it happen?” she asked, without taking her eyes from a jagged piece of wood which had washed up onto the shore. Thin strips of metal were attached to it such as she’d not seen in a ship before. Even they had bent and snapped from the force of the wreck.
“I saw,” replied Tam.
“Whoever did this, I want to kill them.”
“Do you truly think you could, if you had the chance?”
“After this, aye. Aye, I could.”
He paused. “If there were any Fuathans here, they would have felt the magic as it happened. They might know where – perhaps even whom it came from. With your Air magic, you might be able to—”
“Hear their thoughts? I tried. I asked them who did it but they wouldn’t tell me.”
“You can send your thoughts to them?” He looked impressed. “Try again. Anything they say could be helpful.”
She sensed fewer Fuathans in the bay than there had been. Tarshruth, she thought, latching onto his familiar presence lurking in the water. I wish to talk with you.
I have nothing to say. His other thoughts whispered uneasily, edged with fear.
After you just watched my friends die and did nothing, after you were willing to let me drown, you owe me something. The least you can do is answer my questions.
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